Watch Over You
by SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: Spencer gets called on to help a mutant in trouble and somehow ends up doing something he's never done before-bringing that mutant home.


This was a rather perfect way to spend the evening after a long workday spent doing nothing but paperwork. Spencer Reid stretched out on his couch, head propped up on one end with a pillow and his long legs stretched out towards the other end while the opening music for Fellowship of the Ring started to play. This couch had been a yard sale find that he'd never once regretted. He'd had to clean it up and reupholster it when he first got it but it was the absolute perfect couch to lounge around on. Long enough that he could stretch out without dangling off the other end and wide enough that he could, conceivably, lie down with someone. That is, if he had someone to lie down with. Unfortunately, he was the only person on said couch at the moment.

But that was fine. Really. This was what had come to be a great way for him to relax. Work had been busy so much lately that he wasn't often at home. The few times he was home, he didn't really have the energy to go out and try and find any sort of companionship. Not that going out 'on the prowl' as Derek jokingly called it was ever something that he'd been all that interested in. But as the years went by, Spencer found himself less and less interested. He was thirty years old now and some days he felt twice that age.

Life for him was work. Not just his day job, but also the on-call work he did. Work that only a select few people knew about, for the local mutant underground. Derek knew about the work Spencer did, because he was Spencer's best friend and he'd been with him when a call came in. The same with Emily. She knew. Not only knew, but had helped.

Spencer had earned three doctorates to his name by the time he'd hit twenty one. Not a one of them was in medicine. Yet in the past six years, he was sure he'd done enough on-the-job medical training that he could've earned his degree a few times over already. Misty, the woman who ran this part of the underground, called Spencer in often for help. Be it psychological—someone who was scared or had been hurt, or who had troubles they didn't know how to cope with—or medical.

It all started because Spencer had happened to be in the wrong place at the right time six years ago. He'd happened to miss his bus and had been walking through a bad part of town when he'd come across a mutant bashing. He'd rushed in and, thankful that he was just off work and was armed, had scared the bullies off. When he'd seen how badly damaged the victim on the ground was, he'd tried to get her to go to a hospital. But she was young, very obviously a mutant, and also obviously, she hadn't had good experiences with medical staff. The idea of going had terrified her so badly she'd almost had a panic attack. So Spencer had taken her nearby, paid for a cheap room at one of those no-tell motels, and he'd treated her there, using his rudimentary medical skills to stitch up any wounds, stop any bleeding.

He hadn't known it, but that had started it all for him. The next day, when he took her to the place she said she was staying, he met Misty for the first time. A big, buxom woman with suspicious yet kind eyes, a laugh that could fill a room, and a wooden spoon that wasn't afraid to cause damage if you stepped out of line. She'd thanked him for helping the girl, complimenting his stitch work, and had very blatantly quizzed him over coffee. One hour later, he'd been looking at another mutant, this one a boy who was also too visibly mutant to go to a regular hospital. By the end of the day, he'd seen ten patients, not all of them for medical reasons. When he left, he left Misty with his card and the promise that she'd call him if she needed him.

It took a good six months for her to really warm up to him. But by then Spencer had treated multiple patients, counseled plenty more, and had helped calm down one out of control telepath who'd been too terrified to reign herself in. That night was also the night that Misty found out that Spencer didn't just _help_ mutants—he was one.

Aside from the amazingly powerful mental shields he possessed—which were strong enough that it'd been suggested they were a secondary power of his—he had what he'd been told was a 'calming aura'. It was always there, which was why people tended to relax in his presence, but if he worked to project it he could weave it into his words, push it into the room around him, and slowly calm people down. It'd first manifested at puberty when he'd been trying to calm his mother down during one of her really bad episodes. Spencer's powers had kicked in and he'd calmed her so much she'd actually fallen asleep right there in her chair. Since then, the power had come in handy many, many times, not just in his regular life but during his work at the BAU. And as he worked for Misty, it came in handy there as well.

Now, years after he started, Misty called him in often. If a mutant came through that was in need of counseling, a little mental or emotional help, or if they were in need of medical help. Spencer had improved his skills there over the years. He'd taken medical classes on the sly, any courses that he could get his hands on that improved his knowledge, and he'd studied mutant physiology as best as he could so he would better understand what he was doing. Misty had a room set aside for him in her house where she kept all her medical supplies. In a push, there was a clinic down the road from her where Spencer had been forced to get real in the field training with x-rays, putting on casts, and some terrifying emergency surgery.

He wasn't a professional doctor, but he was the best that these mutants had. Many of them either weren't welcomed in hospitals, or they were too terrified to go, or they were on the run and couldn't risk being seen. It didn't matter who they were or what they looked like to him. He helped them, one and all, because if he didn't—who would?

The work wasn't constant, sometimes a few months passing without him getting a call, but when the call came in he let nothing except his BAU job stop him.

Spencer's life consisted of his job at the BAU, the cases he went out on, and the work he did for Misty. It was a fulfilling life. He was helping people! If some days he found himself wanting just a little _more_ , someone that he could share it all with, well, that was something he could live with. No one got everything, right? He was thirty years old and was married to his job. A job that he'd seen over the years was dangerous to family. It was better this way.

He shook away the maudlin thoughts and brought his focus back to the movie on the screen. Now was not the time to lie around and lament his lack of a love life. The day had been long and tedious, full of not only his own paperwork but the paperwork of his friends that somehow always found a way into his pile, and he was more than ready to just stretch out here and watch his movie.

Sighing away some of his tension, Spencer let the worries of his day start to melt away and he got caught up in the familiar story that he'd seen and read countless times before.

Of course, it didn't last.

Twenty minutes into the movie his phone rang. One look told him who it was and he was sitting up and turning his movie off even as he answered the phone. "Dr. Reid."

" _Hey, Doc_." Misty's husky voice came down the line, warm and raspy with the sound of too many cigarettes and too much whiskey in her life. " _Am I interrupting anything?_ "

"Nothing that can't hold until later. What can I do for you?" He bent down, slipping his feet back into his shoes and quickly tying them off. Misty wouldn't be calling if she didn't need him for something. Not at almost nine o'clock at night. She always kept her social calls to the morning time, or the afternoon. Night calls were always work-related. Always.

Sure enough, " _We got someone in here that needs your help._ " All practicalities, she immediately launched into details which Spencer paid close attention to as he grabbed his coat and keys and a few things from the hall closet, bag included, and made his way out of his apartment. " _Male, early thirties I'd guess. He's been badly beaten. We took him straight to the clinic instead of back home. It's…it's pretty serious, Doc. Leg looks broken, maybe his arm as well, and we're not sure about the other wrist. He needs stitches—a lot. We almost didn't want to move him._ "

There was something in her voice, something that worried Spencer. He stuck his keys in the door and locked it almost absently, most of his attention on the phone. "Is there anything else?"

He heard her let out a gusty sigh. " _His powers are haywire. Kyle gave him a shot for the pain, just so we could move him. Worked fine and all until we got him here. He burned it off way faster than he should've. An when he woke up…I don't know what his power is. I don't know what to call it. All I know is that he woke up and everyone within twenty feet was ready to jump that boy and ride him raw._ "

"Really?" Spencer blinked back his surprise at that. "He hit you with straight lust?"

 _"Felt like it. Can't none of us get close now, either. Not without things starting to get hot an heavy._ "

Hurrying down the last bit of stairs, Spencer reassured her. "I'll be there as quick as I can."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later he was parking his car around the back of the small clinic. The clinic itself closed at five each evening and they had a perfect understanding with the doctor there to use the facility during the night. Whatever the deal was, it was between them and Misty and Spencer stayed out of it. All he knew was that it made his job easier. Spencer used the key Misty had given him years back and he let himself inside.

He'd barely gone a few steps in when he felt the first tendrils of _something_ brush up against his shields. It was just enough to distract him and have him actually stopping in place to better focus on it. A few steps further in and the sensation grew stronger. Wow. Okay. He definitely knew what Misty had been talking about, now. The lust was getting stronger the further in that Spencer went and if it hadn't been for his shields he would've already been hard from it. Talk about one hell of a power. And out of control, too, he was guessing. What injured person would want to entice those around them into sex? There was no logical reason for that. Projecting lust like this wasn't something practical in this kind of situation. Not with the injuries that Misty had described.

As Spencer rounded the corner, he found three people in the waiting area. All of them were looking his way as he came in. Misty was there, of course, and her right hand man Kyle. Lola was the other person there, which really wasn't a surprise. These three had the best shields out of the group. None were as strong as Spencer's but they were still strong in their own right. Lola was the one of the best. Spencer had taken to helping teach some of the others to improve their shields in the years that he'd known them and Lola had been the one to take to it the best. It was why she was often the one who got to play nurse. Either her or Kyle. He came in just behind her in shield strength.

Judging by the way that they looked, the tension in their bodies, their dilated pupils, he had a feeling their shields weren't holding out against this lust as well as his were.

"Doc." Misty pushed off from the wall she'd been leaning against and she made her way towards him. He found himself enveloped in a familiar hug that he easily returned before she pulled back to smile up at him. "Thanks for coming down, sweetheart. We could really use your help with this one. You feel him?"

"Yeah, I feel him." How could he not?

"We've got him set up in the room at the end of the hall." Kyle said. With one hand, he gestured down the hallway. "It was the only one with no way out."

Spencer raised his eyebrows. "You trapped him?" That wasn't like them. They didn't force their help on anyone. It was offered freely but no one was required to accept it.

"He runs, he's gonna get himself raped or killed out there." Misty said bluntly. She wasn't one to mince words and she didn't start now. "Right now, that room's the safest place for him. He can't seem to shut that lust off an when you get in close, it aint easy to resist, Doc. Plus, he's too injured to get far. He's got broken bones, he's tore up all over, an he looks like someone fished him outta the water. He needs help, Doc. Your help. I don't think anyone else is gonna be able to get close to that boy."

He drew in a breath and blew it back out slowly. "All right." He could do this. Wrapping himself up in the steady calm he'd learned both on the job and through here, he straightened himself up. "You guys keep a safe distance back. When it's safe, Lola, I'll call out for you if I need you. Are you okay with waiting out here?"

"No problem, Doc." The blond haired woman said easily. She flashed him a reassuring smile.

Misty put her hand on Spencer's arm and drew his eyes back to her. "I've got a few things to take care of, but I'm gonna leave Kyle and Lola here with you. You call if you need me."

The closer that Spencer got to that room the stronger the lust grew. He felt it thick and heavy up against his shields. It felt sort of strange, like lust and yet with this different edge, something that was sticky and sweet like cotton candy. By the time he opened the door to the patient room, he was amazed that the others had been able to walk away from this with as heavily as the man was projecting.

No one had warned him the man had other powers.

Spencer had just enough time to duck as something glowing pink went flying past his head. It went somewhere behind him before exploding. Stunned, Spencer flashed a look back at it and then over to the man lying on the bed. He'd expected to find an injured man, maybe still a bit drugged and most likely slightly out of it, especially considering how his powers were projecting all around him. What he got instead was this furious looking man who was glaring at him and holding tightly to something in his hands that was glowing pink just like the item that had just sailed past Spencer's head and exploded.

The guy was on the exam table and he was sitting up. Spencer wasn't quite sure _how_ he was managing that one. One look was all he needed to know that Misty's assessment had been pretty right. That leg very obviously had a break, and the swollen arm cradled against the man's stomach was probably broken as well, plus he was covered in so many cuts and bruises it was a wonder there was much clean skin left. His clothes were drenched and torn in places, giving Spencer hints of bruising and bleeding underneath, plus places where blood had soaked through his clothes.

His face looked like it had taken quite a beating. Long, wet hair framed a face that might've been attractive if it wasn't for all the damage done to it. His lip was split—Spencer made a mental note that that would need a few stitches to close—his nose looked potentially broken, his right cheek had what looked to be road rash, his forehead sported a laceration that was at least three inches long, another cut ran over the left side of his jaw, and both of his eyes looked bruised. But none of that stopped him from glaring. A glare that was made all the more threatening by the fact that he had the most devilish eyes that Spencer had ever seen. Red irises, black sclera—the part of the eye that was usually white—they were intimidating when the man glared, and Spencer imagined they'd given him a lot of grief in his life.

Whoever had hurt him, they'd done a damn good job. Something told Spencer that this guy hadn't been intended to survive it. The way the guy was glaring, the way his whole body was braced like he was ready to do anything to fight his way out of here, said that he knew that too and he wasn't going to go down easy. It was a spirit Spencer could admire.

Before the next charged up object could come flying at him, Spencer stuck both hands up in the air in the universal sign to show he was unarmed. "Woah there, mister. Calm down. I'm not here to hurt you."

"Like hell." The man drawled out in a thick Cajun accent. "Y' let me de hell outta dis place. _Now_."

Spencer licked his lips and took a small sidestep away from the door. Very deliberately he used his foot to reach out and shut the door. He watched the man's eyes dart over there and then flash back to him, sharper than before. Spencer straightened himself up and tried his damndest not to be intimidated by that look. "I'd love to let you out of here, I really would, but right now it looks like you're in need of some serious medical attention, and your powers don't seem entirely under your control. Or, at least, part of them."

"Y' don't seem to be havin' no problem."

How on earth the man could manage to talk, let alone snarl like that, with the damage to his mouth was just amazing. "I have extremely strong shields." Spencer explained to him. "It's why Misty called me down here. They're the ones that found you. She said you were hurt, badly, and they brought you here to the clinic we use so that you could get some help. That's all we want to do here, mister, is help you. I just want to patch you up as best as I can. That's what we do. We're all a part of a group here that helps those that no one else will. We help mutants, just like you, who either can't or won't get help through normal means." When the man said nothing, though the glow of whatever he held had lessened, Spencer took just a small step forward. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Gambit."

Obviously his codename. That was fine. Very, very few of the mutants Spencer met ever gave him a real name. "I'd say it's nice to meet you, Gambit, but there isn't much about this situation that's nice, is there?" Spencer carefully schooled his expression to one of calm and control. He'd almost perfected the look in his years of doing this. Then, lifting his hands a little more to make sure that Gambit saw they were still empty, he drew in a breath and very slowly started to let a sense of peace creep into his words and into the very air of the room. "I'm Dr. Reid, but most people around here just call me Doc. I'm here to help."

"Y' just keep y'r damn drugs away from me." Gambit snarled out.

"I won't give you anything you don't want." Spencer said soothingly. "We've got a lot of mutants that come through here that have adverse reactions to medications, so we're pretty used to trying to work around that. I promise, I won't give you anything you can't have or don't want. Right now, all I want to do is look at your injuries."

The man's lip curled up in a sneer. "Yeah, Gambit's heard dat one b'fore."

They needed to establish some trust here. Something that would show Gambit that he didn't want to hurt him. It was a game Spencer had played out countless times with countless mutants over the years. He had to show some sort of trust towards them and do something to establish that they'd be able to trust him. Sometimes it worked; sometimes it didn't. The times it didn't, well, those usually ended not so great for Spencer.

There were a multitude of ways that he could think of to do this. One, however, stuck out more than most. It was what Misty would probably consider foolish and his team would most definitely tell him was stupid if they ever saw him do it. However, it seemed the best opinion.

"Here. I'm going to take off my bag." Gently, Spencer reached down and hooked his fingers into the strap of his messenger bag. With slow and deliberate movements he pulled the strap up and over his head. Then, holding it out with one hand, he carefully tossed the bag over and watched it land on the counter by the bed. It was close enough that Gambit would be able to reach it. "Inside, in the big pocket towards the back, you'll find a gun." He saw surprise flash over Gambit's face. Meeting his gaze calmly, Spencer kept his hands up and his body relaxed. "Now you're the one that's armed, even more than before. I try anything and you can shoot me." With his chin, he gestured towards the back. "Go ahead and grab it. You can check—it's loaded."

"Y'r insane." Still, Gambit reached out and snagged the bag, his body still angled so that he'd be able to watch Spencer the entire time. The item in his hand lost its glow and Spencer could see as he set it down that it was a roll of gauze. It only took Gambit a moment to find the gun and pull it out. The way that Gambit was looking at it showed just how surprised he was to actually find it in there. Those surprised eyes lifted up towards Spencer's face and he could see that wary edge was just a bit stronger than before. "Y' came here armed?" Unvoiced but implied was that someone who was coming to help shouldn't be coming armed.

Spencer didn't flinch. He'd come armed partially out of habit and partially because he'd encountered some trouble over the years that wasn't always mutant oriented and sometimes it came in handy to have a gun in his hands. Luckily, he'd never actually had to shoot anyone to stop things from happening. Just the threat was enough. "You didn't?"

Something flashed briefly over the Cajun's eyes. "Touché." With quick, expert moves, he checked Spencer's weapon, reassuring himself that it was in fact loaded.

When their eyes met again, Spencer could see that some of the edge had faded from those dark depths. He'd just gained a small amount of trust from the mutant. "You're the one armed here, Gambit. You've got the power here. Now—will you let me help you? Please?"

This was the moment of truth here. Spencer watched Gambit and tried to read the man's expressions. He was pretty damn controlled. More than would be suggested by the thick lust that was still permeating the air. Was he doing it intentionally, then? He'd seemed to have his 'charge' well enough under control. Could this lust be deliberate? Or was it just harder for him to control? Spencer wasn't sure and it was most definitely one of the things he'd ask him if Gambit allowed him to help.

Gambit tilted his head and studied Spencer's face in return. The two watched one another for a few long moments. Spencer didn't move, didn't lower his hands. He let Gambit look for whatever reassurance he needed here. Finally, after a few long minutes, the man gave a small nod. "No drugs, though. Gambit wants to watch what y'r doing de entire time y'r doing it."

"Understandable." Now that he had permission, Spencer moved forward and his eyes were already running once more over Gambit's body. There was a lot he needed to address. The leg, though, that looked the worst, even from a distance, and he needed to get the pants out of the way to better assess the break he saw there. He'd need to get Lola or Kyle to get the x-ray machine up and running. Most likely they were already prepared for that.

However, he wouldn't be able to get Gambit out there until he got whatever this lust thing was under control.

Stopping at the man's bedside, Spencer looked up at his face again, taking note of the increased wariness as well as the way the lust was thicker, rolling over his shields. Spencer met those dark eyes head on and didn't flinch from them. "Whatever your power is, this lust? Can you pull it back in?"

The wariness on Gambit's face increased a little more. "M' charm." He hesitated, and then, "Can't control it, not with de meds dey gave me."

Well that would definitely explain why he hadn't wanted any medication. Spencer really couldn't blame him. It wasn't hard to think of the downside of having this power go out of control. He didn't say any of that out loud, simply nodded his head in understanding. "Okay then, I won't call in the others. That means it's going to be just you and me in here, so I'm going to need your help with things."

"First t'ings first, give up de gun, right?" Gambit's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Spencer resisted the urge to roll his eyes and ended up just shaking his head instead. His eyes ran back down the man and towards his feet. Might be the easiest place to start. He needed to get him out of his wet clothes. "No, you don't need to give up the gun. Not until we get you in for x-rays. You won't be able to hold it in there." Spencer made his way down to the foot of the bed and, after making sure Gambit saw his hands and saw that he was still unarmed, he reached for the man's shoes and started to unlace them. As he did, he spoke. "What I meant was more that I might need you to hand me supplies, things like that. You've got quite a collection of injuries and there are going to be a few stitches, I can guarantee you that, plus the obvious breaks." As he pulled off one shoe, he snuck a look up towards Gambit's face. "Can you tell me what happened to you?"

On this, Gambit surprisingly didn't hesitate at all. He shrugged one shoulder and answered Spencer like it was nothing. "Jus' some nasty FOH _connards_ , dat's all. Dey caught m' ass when I was gettin' some information." Smiling weakly, he looked down at himself and then back up at Spencer. "Dey didn't take too kindly t'someone helping demselves t' deir servers."

Spencer ran his eyes over the man's body and then back up to his face. If this was what he got from tangling with the FOH…wow. "You were lucky they left you alive."

One corner of Gambit's bruised mouth quirked up. "Don't t'ink it was intentional. Gambit went into de water—swimming with broken bones is easier dan walking with em, y'know?"

Damn. He'd already known that Gambit had gone in the water, had been able to figure that out from his drenched clothes, but to have to swim with the broken bones just to get away from the guys trying to kill him? That took a lot of guts. It was also going to make healing a bit of a dangerous thing. If he didn't end up with some kind of infection because of this it was going to be a miracle.

Spencer got the other shoe off and set it down on the ground as well. Socks came next. Straightening back up, he met Gambit's gaze. Time to move onto the pants. This was where things were going to start getting painful. "This next bit isn't going to be easy. We can pull your pants off, or I can cut them off. We've got some extra clothes that you can wear afterwards, so don't worry about being left without any."

"Y' do what y' gotta do, _homme_."

From a nearby drawer he produced a pair of scissors. Then he looked to Gambit's face one last time. "All right then. You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Then let's get to work."

* * *

It took three hours. Three long, careful, _painful_ hours before Spencer could finally step back from his patient and allow the man to properly rest. Both of them were exhausted by the time he was done. With Gambit's refusal to take any sort of drugs, it had been quite an experience in pain for the Cajun. The most that Spencer had been able to get him to agree on was a bit of lidocaine and that had only been after the man had checked the bottle over himself to make sure that was all he was getting. The way he acted suggested that he'd been tricked at some point by medical staff in his past, or by someone.

Spencer held his tongue and didn't point out that if they'd wanted to trick him, they could've made sure anything at all was in the bottle Gambit was looking at.

They got lucky in that Gambit's injuries were severe, but easily treated here at the clinic. Spencer had all the things necessary to x-ray the leg and arm that looked bad—both were broken—and the sore wrist as well, which thankfully wasn't broken. It was, however, severely sprained and would need to stay wrapped and braced for a while. The broken bones were the worst to deal with. They were damn lucky there wasn't any need for surgery. But setting the bones—that wasn't fun. The only reason they managed to make it through it was that they had help. Spencer had kept up his 'calming aura' the entire time that he'd been in here and it seemed to have done wonders for Gambit. He even gave up the gun long enough to get his x-rays done, though he snatched it back up the instant Spencer wheeled him back into the treatment room.

Little by little the sensation of lust had tapered down as he gained back more control of himself. It was enough that Spencer was able to bring in Lola to help him. The slender blond was stronger than she looked and with her help, they got the bones set in Gambit's leg and in his arm. Spencer wasn't all that surprised when setting Gambit's arm knocked him out. The human body can only withstand so much pain and Gambit was putting up with a lot without any help from pain relievers.

With Gambit unconscious, it allowed Spencer and Lola to work unhindered. They got him treated as quickly and efficiently as possible.

When Lola tried to remove the gun from the unconscious man's grip, a light touch from Spencer stopped her. "Let him keep it." He said.

She gave him a look of surprise. "What? Why?"

"Trust." was all Spencer said.

They were just wrapping up Gambit's other ankle, which Spencer was almost positive was sprained underneath all that swelling, when their patient woke up once more. The first thing he did was curl his hand over the gun he still held. His eyes snapped opened and went first to Lola, who actually startled back a little from his gaze, and then they moved over to Spencer. Unlike Lola, Spencer didn't startle. He just continued to calmly wrap the ace bandage around Gambit's ankle. "We finished casting your leg." He told him, not looking up from what he was doing. "Your arm is in a brace for now because the stitches there won't allow for a cast. So please, try not to move it too much. We had to be a bit creative about our wrapping."

Gambit looked again to Lola, who still seemed a little taken aback by his devilish stare. Then, blinking a few times like he was trying to clear his gaze, he looked back at Spencer, only wincing slightly despite the pain he must be in. It was just a bit impressive.

Little metal clasps helped to hold the ace bandage in place once he was done wrapping it. With that secure, Spencer straightened himself back up. There. Gambit had been casted, wrapped, stitched, and treated. He'd been treated to the best of Spencer's abilities. But he was going to have one hell of a recovery in front of him. "Lola, would you mind giving us a minute?" Spencer asked.

"Of course." Lola murmured.

Spencer moved away from the bed to give Gambit a bit of space. Leaning back against the counter, he stripped off his gloves and tossed them down into the trash. Only when the door was closed and they were alone did he speak again. "I bandaged you up as best as I could. Your injuries were rather extensive. You have a broken leg, a broken arm, a sprained wrist, and a sprained ankle. Your ribs are severely bruised, as is your left shoulder. I'm guessing it was dislocated at some point and then reset." He paused, but Gambit said nothing, only watched him carefully, which was confirmation enough for Spencer. He nodded his head. "You've got some rather deep bruising on your left thigh that's going to make movement interesting, as well as various bruises all over the place. I also put in an insane amount of stitches, all of which are going to need to be monitored and properly cared for to prevent any sort of infection. You're going to have a long road ahead of you, Mr. Gambit. Physical therapy for your arm and leg will almost certainly be a necessity."

"Gambit can manage it." He said, speaking up for the first time since he'd regained consciousness. "Aint de first time an it aint gonna be de last."

No, he imagined it wasn't the first time, if any of the scars he'd seen were anything to go by. Still, Spencer had come to a few important conclusions while he was bandaging up his patient. The first of which was, "You can't stay here. Once the ones that did this realize you're still alive, and presumably with the information, they'll want to take you out. It's going to be personal now."

Gambit nodded at him. " _Je sais._ Jus' patch me up an I'll get on m' way."

"Don't be ridiculous." Spencer said immediately. That hadn't been his plan here at all. What kind of person would he be if that was what he did? The thought had never even crossed his mind to just send Gambit off on his own. "You're in absolutely no condition to be on your own. You're going to require assistance to care for all those stitches, as well as help to watch out for and treat any possible signs of infection. If we were a regular hospital, I'd keep you under observation for a few days at the very least, just until I could be sure. With all your injuries, you're going to be lucky to get up out of bed, let alone do much moving around for a while."

The man's lips curved up just the slightest bit. "Aint like Gambit's got no other choice, _homme_."

"We always have choices. Maybe you don't feel like it, but you do. You can choose to attempt to stay here and put yourself and these people at risk if someone comes for you or if your charm leaks out again. Or," He hesitated only briefly. Then, gathering up his courage, he finished with the only solution that he'd been able to come up with so far. "Or you could come and stay with me. I can defend myself against trouble and I've already proving to have shields capable of keeping your charm out."

This wasn't the first time that Spencer had been called down to help patch someone up, nor was it the first time that he'd offered to help them out afterwards. It _was_ , however, the first time he'd offered to open up his own home for said help. In the past, he'd offered many a time to pay for a motel room for those he helped, giving them a night or more safely away from others so they could rest and recover. He wasn't sure what it was about this patient that prompted him to make this offer. All he knew was that it seemed like the right thing to do. Gambit was hurt, quite a bit more than he appeared, and he wasn't going to be able to care for himself for quite a while as he recovered. He needed someone to watch over him, to help take care of him. Not to mention, if he'd managed to get away from this FOH group with any sort of information there was every likelihood that they would try to come after him to get it back. He needed someone who would be able to not only help him heal but also help keep him safe. Spencer couldn't, in good conscience, let him go off on his own.

The stunned look on Gambit's face was priceless. Something told Spencer it wasn't often that anyone surprised the man. It quickly melted away, though. In its place was suspicion that was quickly hidden underneath a blank mask. " _Non_." Gambit said, shaking his head. " _Merci, mec, mais non._ I aint bringing dis to no one's door."

"Gambit." Sighing, Spencer leaned forward a bit, brushing a bit of hair from his face. He didn't stop to question why this was so important to him, or why he was about to take a huge, _huge_ risk. The next words he said had the potential to cause some very serious trouble for him if Gambit wanted. "I'm more than just someone who helps out mutants in this town. I'm also a federal agent who is fully capable of handling whatever may come to my door, no matter what the threat is—including the FOH. I know how to get you discreetly inside my apartment, and I don't plan on advertising that I'm bringing you there, so I don't foresee any enemies being that much of a problem. You are hurt, in need of care while you heal, alone, and in danger. Please. Let me help you."

If he'd thought Gambit looked stunned before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now. "Y'r a fuckin' fed?" The man said with surprise, his lips twisting up ever so slightly on the word 'fed'.

Spencer let his lips quirk up slightly in a wry half-smile. "Stunning, yes, I know. But I'm not here as any sort of threat, Gambit, I promise you. If I was any sort of trouble do you really think that Misty would invite me down here to help out? I've been assisting her for years." Pushing off the counter, Spencer took a step forward the bed, locking eyes with Gambit as he did. "I know you've got no reason to believe me, but my offer is sincere. My apartment has a guest room I can set you up in where you'll be comfortable while you heal, and I can be close to help out as needed. Even if I have to travel for work, I can make sure you're okay before I go and I can have the woman who was here before, Lola, stop by to check on you. I don't mean to sound presumptuous, but I'm guessing by the way that you spoke that you don't have anyone to go to for help. Please, let me help you." In a rare attempt at humor, Spencer smiled at him and added "You'll save me from constantly stressing over you, wondering where you are. Misty already claims I'm going to make myself sick one day worrying about others. You don't want to be responsible for making that finally come true, do you?"

A hint of humor sparked to life in Gambit's eyes. "Aint y' a manipulative one?"

"Is it working?" Spencer asked, grinning.

For a moment Gambit just stared at him. What he was thinking or what he was seeing didn't show on his face at all. He just watched for a long moment. Then, suddenly, he surprised Spencer by saying "Remy." The curious look Spencer gave him made him chuckle. "M' name's Remy." He explained. Lifting Spencer's gun, he turned it and held it the butt end out towards Spencer. "If we're gonna be spending time t'gether, y' might as well call me by m' given name, _oui_?"

The smile that stretched Spencer's lips was wide and bright. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Remy."

* * *

 _This story may have more one day, but for now it stays as a stand-alone. I hope you liked it!_


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